


Pleasure

by tragedie



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, a new dawn era, not explicit i promise, some swears and slight sexism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 06:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15624246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tragedie/pseuds/tragedie
Summary: Kanan and Hera pay a not-so pleasurable visit to Lothal to meet a contact for Fulcrum





	Pleasure

Hera pounded on the door of the fresher. Kanan had been in there for light years, and they had a very important op to get to. Fulcrum was sending them to Lothal for the umpteenth time — Fulcrum had an obsession with the planet, she was sure. What stressed Hera was that she was sending them to a bar.   
A bar. And if Kanan wasn’t fully prepared, she’d be dragging a drunkard behind her while meeting her contact.   
“Kanan Jarrus, if you don’t finish up right now I will kick you off this craft.” It was a mostly empty threat. Mostly.   
Her commanding voice seemed to work, because the fresher door opened.   
Revealing a very wet and very muscled and very tan Kanan that was not very dressed. Wrapped in a towel and naked from waist up, he looked down at her through damp ribbons of dark, messy hair. Water droplets stuck to his shoulder and cascaded down his chest.  
Hera tried to make eye contact, hoping her face hadn’t gone entirely flush. She blamed it on the steam.   
It wasn’t that she was infatuated with her partner-business partner- but his handsome bone structure had not slipped her mind. What, she wasn’t blind! Hera was observant.   
Very observant. She hadn’t expected him to have such a handsome muscle stru-   
Hera cleared her throat, banishing her thoughts. She didn’t want to give him ideas. He already had plenty of his own.   
A small smirk played on his plump lips. “What is so important that you had to interrupt my shower?” He said languishingly. “Or…did you just want to see me?” He winked and rested a muscled arm on the door frame.   
Hera tried to glare at him as hard as possible “I don’t know what the kriff you were doing that was taking so long,” she scolded, “but we have business to attend to.”   
“Hey, hair takes awhile to wash if you want it to shine!” He grinned at her wolfishly. “What kind of business?”   
“Fulcrum business. Get dressed, we need to talk and then we’re leaving. We’ll be on Lothal soon.”   
Kanan scowled. “Fulcrum,” he muttered. He didn’t appreciate secrecy — funny, he had an affinity for it. “Lothal, again?”   
Hera turned her back. “Better be ready.”   
She walked away, closing her eyes tight to forget the image that was burned to her eyelids.   
Kanan, now dressed with his hair tied back, met her in the cockpit.   
“So, what are we doing this time?”   
“Correspondence. Meeting a rebel sympathizer with potentially valuable information and connections. We’re hoping to strike a beneficial deal.”   
“So,” Kanan said, “where is this contact?”   
Hera ground her jaw. That was the hard part. “Old Jho’s. It’s a bar.”   
Kanan cocked an eyebrow. “I like this mission.”   
“No drinking,” she scolded. “This is a very important mission and if you drink more than one beer I will kick you out while I’m hyperspace.”  
“One beer?”   
“Only because we need to blend in. We need a clear head though. Your tolerance must be…high so I’m trusting you to think sober on one beer.”   
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll take what I can get.”   
Hera grimaced. She tried to convince herself it was for the sake of the mission and not her partner’s wellbeing.   
She was not so fond of him. He’s only been on board for a year.  
At that moment, they pulled out of hyperspace. The blue and green planet, picturesque from space, loomed before them.   
“Welcome back,” Hera said.

She landed them in a field one click from the bar. Dusk had fallen, and locals were starting to trickle in.   
Hera had changed into a tight tank top and billowy skirt, playing the begrudging part of slave. Kanan had removed his arm guard, carrying only his blaster in the case of trouble. Hera hid hers in her garter. Kanan carried credits and a chip containing potentially useful information and proof of their genuine intentions against the Empire.   
They reached the entrance. Inside, it was dark with dancing lights and dancing bodies.  
“Make it look good,” she murmured. “Just not too good,” she added, pressing herself to his side. He rose a sly eyebrow, slipping a hand around her waist. Images of his half naked form danced before her eyes.   
This would be a rough night.

Walking in nonchalantly, they made straight for the bar. The bartender was an Iothorian, the one Fulcrum had told her about.   
Kanan scanned the menu and ordered a large beer — and probably the most intoxicating of the options. Hera ordered a meilooron cocktail, leaning heavy on her Ryl accent to play her part.   
At the end of her order, she muttered, “Fulcrum,”   
The bartender eyed the pair, then nodded. “Coming up.”   
Kanan leaned into her. He was enjoying this mission. “Hey,” he whispered, breath hot on her neck. “That our contact?”   
Hera turned into him, bringing her lips in close to his cheek. “Yes. Owner of the bar, known rebel sympathies. Used to be friends with some Lothal natives. Spoke out, and…” she let her sentence trail off. Poor folks. They were fine people, she heard, and inspiring.   
Kanan pulled her closer, eyes sultry. He wasn’t entirely acting, she knew.   
She didn’t want to admit that she wasn’t either. “If his sympathies are so known, why’s he still in business?”   
“Locals love him. Or…alcohol, at least. Like you,” she teased. Kanan’s lips twitched. “Keeps it on the down low. Many consider it rumors, but he’s helped Fulcrum a few times. We can trust him.”   
“Good,” he said. His head turned, tense. “Do you trust me?”   
Hera looked at him suspiciously, then looked out into the bar. Imperial officers had entered.   
She gasped. “Yes.”   
“Good.” He wrapped a strong arm around her waist and planted her on his lap. Her breathing hitched; she nearly shouted.   
Make it look good.   
This was certainly thorough. Kanan’s hands rested lightly on her hips and he leaned into her as the Imperial officers got closer.   
Old Jho came to meet them, handing Kanan and Hera their drinks with a nervous glance. Kanan took an indulgent gulp, the acrid smell of alcohol wafting into the air.   
“Hello officers, what can I get you?” He said through the garbled voice of the translation device.   
“Your best,” one said, slamming credits down.  
“Say, bartender, you haven’t heard of any rebel sympathies recently?” The other prodded.   
Hera took a deep breath, which she covered by shoving her lips against Kanan’s. She tasted the alcohol on his soft lips.   
Kanan jerked away, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you want it to look that good,” he whispered. Hera scowled into his shoulder.   
“There are imperials right there asking about rebels. We have to make it look that good. I’m your…pleasure slave, remember?” Hera’s mouth felt bitter, and not because of the alcohol.   
Kanan scowled, seemingly just as disgusted by the term.   
Hera took a sip of her cocktail and kissed him again.  
She wished she didn’t enjoy it. She wished she didn’t want it. She wished she wasn’t thinking of him standing before her in the fresher door.   
She wished this wasn’t just for the sake of the mission, and she wished she didn’t wish that.   
Hera pulled away, taking a deeper drag of the sugary alcohol. Kriff it, she didn’t know what she wanted and she was scared of what she did. She didn’t know anything anymore. What she did know was that there was a mission to do and Imperials close to ruining it.   
She heard the bartender reply no, then leave to retrieve their drinks.   
Kanan pulled away, eyeing them and taking a drink from his tall glass.   
“Hello officers,” he drawled. “Good night to forget your Imperial duties?”   
They glanced at him, then let their eyes rest on Hera.   
“Say, you’ve got a tall glass there,” one said slyly. Hera tried not to scowl. “What’s your name, love?”   
Hera made her eyes go wide, and responded in her heavy accent, “Good evening officers. My name is Numa. My master-“   
“Kasmiri,” Kanan said, wrapping an arm around her possessively. “And she’s mine.”   
Was she?   
“Well, you’ve got a fine one there.” Their eyes scanned her. “Say, you let her drink?”   
Kanan grinned, taking a long drink. “She’s more fun like that.” He winked at them over the brim of the glass. Hera stomped on his boot. “And I like to indulge her,” he added suggestively.   
The officers laughed jovially, patting Kanan on the shoulder.   
“You’re an honest man, Kasmiri. Say, what’s your profession?”   
“Weapons trader. Some of your stuff goes through me.”   
Hera was impressed, Kanan was an incredibly good actor, quick on his feet. He even forced a drunk slur, though he hadn’t had nearly enough to intoxicate him. He’d need about five more drinks. They could trick these men into thinking they were on their side and stay out of trouble.   
She just hoped they’d leave eventually. She was only here to make one friend, and definitely not an Imperial one.   
Old Jho returned with the men’s drinks. “Anything for you too?” He asked Kanan.   
“No-“ he started.   
“Oh, come Kasmiri. You’re here to have fun! It’s on the house. Another for him, and something fruity for the lady,” the officer winked.   
Hera leaned into Kanan’s ear. “I said one.”   
“I won’t drink it all. I can’t really refuse. Make it look good.”   
Hera sighed. “Thank you, good sirs.”   
“Our pleasure,” said one, looking at her lustfully.   
Hera yearned to show him her garter strap. It would be her pleasure to shoot that smirk off.   
Kanan and the officers made friendly conversation. Kanan knew an impressive amount about weapons and trading.   
He’d been jumping world to world for years before they’d met on Gorse, after all. That’s all Hera knew, other than the unspeakable.   
Hera had a feeling this wasn’t Kanan’s first time diverting Imperial suspicion. In fact, she knew.   
Once the officers had finished two rounds of drinks and friendly conversation, Hera was getting weary of their presence. Kanan was, too. His hands on her hips were tense, jovial attitude more and more forced.   
The officers, now intoxicated, stood. “Well, I don’t think we have any more business here. It was a pleasure I speak to you and your-“ eyes grazed her again - “lady.”   
“Of course, officers. Have a good night, and thank you for the drinks and your service.”   
“And yours. Catch you again sometime, Kasmiri. Hopefully we’ll see her too.” Predatory grins slipped across their faces. With a final pat on the back and glance at Hera, they left.   
Kanan and Hera let out deep breaths.   
Old Jho approached them.   
“You did well there. What you got?”   
“Credits,” Hera said, “and data from my informant, encrypted of course. Key includes. Star maps, codes, allies, hideouts.”   
Jho slipped them a chip. “Credits won’t be necessary. Here, Lothal allies, possible hideouts, Imperial data, and-“ he paused, glancing around warily. “Information in the Bridget’s and their friends. Rumor says they’re still alive and could be powerful allies. No leads, though.”   
Hera gasped, eyes widening. The Bridgers? They were nearly legendary among anti-Imperials. They were the Rebels of Lothal, rumored to be dead. Friends of Jho’s she’d told Kanan about.   
“Thank you,” she whispered. “This could be invaluable.”   
“Thank you too. Have a good night.” He made eye contact with Kanan. Nice act there. You saved all three of us there, young man”   
Kanan nodded, eyes distant.   
“My pleasure.”


End file.
